


Everything

by westminster



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Drabble, I know nothing about medicine, I tried ok, M/M, Morse Code, Sweet, everybody knows morse code because why not, greg has no clue how to handle his emotions, idek how morse code works really, or hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westminster/pseuds/westminster
Summary: House may combust if he doesn't find a way to control his love for Wilson. Then he finds Morse code.-Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.or, I love you.





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing house/Wilson and the morse code idea is stolen from a johnlock post on tumblr so I sadly can't claim credit for that! I hope you like it, feel free to leave me a comment/kudo, they really make my day!

Dr. Gregory House was formidable with words. Ever since he could first string a sentence together, he used his power to decimate his enemies and publicly humiliate his superiors. He could control a room, he practically had a Rolodex of witty comebacks for every situation, and a list longer than one of Cuddy’s speeches of insults about Chase’s sexuality.  

 

It’d be pretty justifiable to claim that House had an answer to everything. Except Wilson. More accurately, Wilson’s stupid hair and the way he smells of the new nurse’s cheap lavender perfume and his god damn eyelashes. Eyelashes for Christ’s sake! Who the hell is attracted to another person’s eyelashes! The way Wilson cares for him without treating him like another one of his cancer kids, and his physic abilities that magically are able to detect House’s pain. It all adds up to House self-diagnosing himself with a case of ‘infatuated colleague syndrome.’ 

 

Luckily the symptoms are only visible to the patient, at least House hopes. Wilson hasn't shown any signs of knowing about House's "little problem'' yet. He keeps up the relenting teasing about Wilson's love life, even though it kills him every time he notices Wilson’s slept with another staff member, every time Wilson makes a joke about them getting together that hits a little too close to home. He wants to scream about it. Yell that he loves Wilson, that Gregory House is in love with James Wilson! He needs a way to tell Wilson he loves him, without Wilson actually knowing. 

 

He'd started attempting little methods, like the time he tried putting secret messages in notes to Wilson. The height of this endeavour was when House managed to spell out 'love u' with the first letters of a list of symptoms for a newly admitted patient. However, House quickly realized that he'd only be able to manage this very rarely and he loves Wilson a little more than rarely. 

 

And so he's back to square one. With every single one of his thoughts dominated by Wilson and it aches. He finds that in the presence of Wilson he becomes this vulnerable, lovesick teenager, and he hates himself for it. Wilson has taken over his life and he needs to know how to reverse it. 

 

The cure? Cameron with her sappy Hugh Grant rom-coms would tell him to organize a huge declaration of love, accompanied by candlelit dinners and personalized balloons. Foreman would probably run to Cuddy and see if he could be transferred because of some vague boss-being-way-too-personal rule. And God, if he asked Cuddy she would transfer him far, far away from his beloved doctor. Chase? Well, he'd be surprised if Chase even processed the words - the boy is too quick to dismiss things. Wow, his colleagues were pretty fucking awful. This meant he had to find a cure himself.

 

And then it hits him. Like a god damn freight train. He's just tapping on the desk, absent-mindedly fantasizing about the little piece of skin on Wilson's stomach that the man exposed when he yawned a few seconds ago. Wilson drones on about some stupid sport: House has gotten very good at pretended to be interested in Wilson's terrible games. Then all he can hear is the tapping of his own fingers and suddenly there's Mark Carvell, who he hasn't seen since middle school, back in the forefront of his mind.

 

Yes, Mark Carvell, the resident nerd and master of the Maths class that House really needed to ace. The reasonable conclusion that House came to was to blackmail Carvell into learning Morse code with him so he could secretly tap out the answers during the all important final test. Sure, it took forever to learn but House loved the ingenuity of it and how much it made Carvell squirm - the magnificent maths wiz was stuck learning fucking Morse code because the class freak had somehow found his secret stash of photos of Alice Weathers. 

 

Morse code! Yes, he'd be able to finally declare his love without spontaneously combusting and with Wilson's ignorance still intact. He glanced up at Wilson, ensuring that he was still totally engrossed with his speech about how awful some team played last night. Then he changed the rhythm of his tapping ever-so-slightly.

 

Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

 

I love you.

 

If Wilson had noticed this tiny change, he certainly hadn't made it known, not even pausing for breathe as he rambled on about the latest sex scandal in the sporting world. So he carried on. Every time Wilson did something inexplicably adorable, like changing House's password to 'jameswilsonisbasicallyjesus' or when he pronounces Krispy Kreme without the second 'e', or when the staff give him leftover boxes of chocolates because he's the only person in the hospital who can stomach the cheap strawberry ones, he is met by the almost robotic _tap tap tap_ of House.

 

The weeks turn into months. House is still pining and tapping; Wilson is still oblivious. 

 

And then they're sat in House's office, it's late and they're staring at the remnants of the game of paper football they had attempted to play. (Posts made from important paperwork that Cuddy wanted in yesterday, of course.) They've both drunk a little whisky, which isn't great for a couple of senior doctors who have early shifts tomorrow but if either of them think this, they don't mention it. They just sit there, staring, the silence speaking volumes itself. Wilson finally breaks their depressive façade with a exaggerated grin at House, smiling so wide that House thinks he can probably see all thirty-two gleaming white teeth. _God, he's gorgeous._

Without taking his eyes from Wilson's, he taps out the same old message.

 

_'I love you.'_

Eyes fluttering shut, he leans his head back against the chair and waits for Wilson to tell him that they better make a move because they're definitely not passing out in House's office again. Instead, he hears the now familiar sound - 

 

_Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap._

_I love you too._

 

His eyes open at lightning speed and he stares, mouth agape at Wilson. He sits up in his chair alert, shifting his weight onto his normal leg. 

 

"How?" He whispered, more direct than anything. Those less familiar with House would easily mistake it for anger. Wilson, however, knew it was just pure confusion. 

 

"Boy scouts," He smiled comfortingly, walking over to House and perching himself on the desk in front of him, "it took me forever to realize those annoying taps were Morse code, and even longer to work out what the hell you were trying to say. My skills are a little rusty."

 

He laughs in a desperate attempt to clear the awkward silence and stares into House's wide eyes. He half-expects a witty comment, but also wouldn't be surprised if House decided to punch him in the face. Wilson can never tell with him.

 

Instead, House shocks them both by leaning in and kissing Wilson firmly on the lips. It's not incredible at first, it's messy - Christ, it's messy - and Wilson somehow ends up straddling House on his chair with House's hands in his hair. They get used to the weird angle and the unfamiliarity that comes with kissing a guy, and suddenly it's romantic and perfect and more than either of them ever expected. House's hands then find their way up Wilson's shirt, pulling him as close as possible. His fingers lightly trace out his left shoulder blade, tapping out one last message.

 

_You are everything._

He can feel Wilson's tears on his face. 

**Author's Note:**

> want to have a chat, send me prompts or just generally stalk me?   
> tumblr: @mandelsons  
> instagram: @trinassong


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